


For all of your worth (I would lapse and fall again)

by brokxnharry



Series: I think I'm coming undone [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of Sterek, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s03e06 Motel California, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, melissa is basically a mother to stiles too, mentions of Scallison, mentions of mama stilinski, sciles are the best thing that has ever happened to me, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 06:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokxnharry/pseuds/brokxnharry
Summary: Four weeks after Scott almost killing himself, and slipping away from everyone who has ever loved him, Stiles walks into his room, and they say things they don't really mean, but Scott thinks he deserves to lose Stiles, and that's the only way he'd ever be lost.





	For all of your worth (I would lapse and fall again)

Stiles couldn't really remember where he was when his mother took her last breath and didn't release it. Couldn't even remember who told him, or where he was when he found out. But he remembered running somewhere between his house and Scott's and having a panic attack after almost getting run over because why didn't it happen? Why couldn't he just go too?

He remembered sleeping next to Scott and waking up next to his mother and crying again because Scott had a mother and he no longer did. He wasn't jealous, he would never wish this upon anyone, especially not Scott. But he just wanted to have someone to call mum. Someone to sleep next to when he had one of his nightmares. Someone who'd go to his school and defend him, when kids were being little brats and no one was standing up for him. Someone who would just smell like home, like innocence and safety and almost every single good thing in the world.

Stiles knocked on the door of the house that he knew so well, two weeks after leaving the hospital, four weeks after the almost suicide/fire. He was barely able to stand without feeling the fire igniting somewhere between his thighs, where his knees connected both bones of his legs. His back still ached although not as severely as it once did. But he was still not allowed to drive so he walked there and he really just needed a glass of water, or some ice to ease the consistent heat.

Melissa opened the door, eyes on the ground, like she was hiding something, or hiding herself away from the world. But when her eyes fell onto Stiles, he gave her the same smile he did, all those years ago, and she pulled him in so fast, he thought he'd trip. He didn't. He wrapped his arms around her, head burying into her shoulder, although, he was taller than her now, bigger too. Such a crazy concept, that. This women watched him grow. She knew him, better than his own mother ever would.

" I can't believe you're here. I- I'm so happy you're okay, Stiles. So happy." She pulled away, taking his face into her hands. She almost started crying, and he almost did too. But she took his hand in hers, walking him into the living room, and closing the door behind them.

This was the house where he'd grown up, with the brother that he'd never had but had found for himself, and the mother that had always been there, when his, couldn't. This was the house that had witnessed his first day of middle school and high school. First kiss. First sleepover to get him away from his grieved, drunk, father. First panic attack, knowing what it was, after being diagnosed, some time after his mother's funeral. First fight with a grownup, when he'd attacked Scott's father to get him off him. So many firsts, and middles, and probably lasts too. But the house was littered with bottles and boxes of expired food and just so much shit. It almost looked abandoned. Or forgotten.

" What's going on, Ms. Mccall? Where is Scott?" She had her face in her hands, sounds that should have never left her mouth, breaking through. Stiles had no idea what to do. He hadn't seen Melissa this broken up since… since Scott's dad left.

" I just left him in the bathroom to take a shower. I came home, after my shift, and- he was laying in this pool of his own vomit, in the kitchen, and- there are all those bottles everywhere, Stiles. But werewolves don't get drunk, right?" She looked up then, staring into Stiles' wide, horrified eyes. He nodded breathlessly.

" So why does he keep drinking? Wh- why is he trying so desperately to be- be like his father?" And just like that, a dam broke inside her, and she was flooded with tears. Stiles put his hands on her back, trying to console her, make her feel better somehow, but it wasn't enough. He wasn't close enough. So he circled his arms around her, pulling her into him and just letting her crash. She held onto him like it was the only thing she could do, like he was the last thing she had of her son. Her son as she knew him at least.

" I don't know how to help him, Stiles. M- my baby, he's all I've got. And I can't help him. Can't make this better. Did I do something wrong? W- was I not a good enough mother? Maybe I should have let his father take him, maybe he- he would have been able to give him something I can't."

" Hey, hey. That's not true at all, Ms. Mccall. That man was a mess. You protected Scott and you put him first. You did everything for him, gave him everything. You're the best parent I have ever seen and Scott would have been nothing of what he is, if he didn't have you. Neither would I. You know that. I- I owe you everything, Ms. Mccall. You were there when- when even my own dad couldn't be, didn't really want to be. And he's great, I couldn't wish for more, but, he hasn't always been. But you have been. You've been consistently there, for the both of us. You did nothing wrong, oh my God, he loves you. He's a great kid, Ms. Mccall. You raised one hell of a man, and he's just, going through some things right now, but at his core, his essence is still there, and that's what's going to pull him through. You did that. It's all you, Ms. Mccall. And nothing would ever take that away from you."

She nodded against his chest, soaking his words right up, needing the reassurance behind them, the confidence they held. He held onto her, until her cries slowly faded to occasional sniffles, and the trembling in her figure almost completely disappeared. She pulled away, wiping the remaining signs of her breakdown, away from her face, before she rested her hand against Stiles' cheek, patting kindly. She smiled, and he did too.

" You're a good kid too, Stiles. Scott and I are, so lucky to have you in our lives. So lucky."

Stiles wasn't used to his presence in someone's life not fucking up everything for them. He wasn't used to people wanting him there, appreciating his existence and almost counting on it. But he nodded nevertheless, leaning into Melissa's hand, before quickly kissing her palm, and detaching himself from her completely.

" Okay, so, I need to ask for a favor, and I need you to do it for me, with minimal resistance." She released a breath that could have been a laugh if she had it in her, nodding, as she sat herself straighter, holding herself up.

" I need you to go to our house. Dad is going to be there, I think. But just, stay there, until I come for you." She looked between his eyes, searching for hidden messages there, like if he was telling her to go but he really wanted her to stay. But he had to talk to his friend, and it would probably get ugly and he didn't want her to be there for it. Didn't want it to hurt her.

" You sure you can handle it here? With him?"

" I've got him, Ms. Mccall. Don't worry." He promised, and she believed him. She knew he'd do anything to bring Scott back. And she could have cried again, if he wasn't giving her that smile that almost pleaded with her not to cry because he couldn't handle watching that again.

" Okay, kiddo. I'll take the car, and if you, or- or Scott, need a drive, just give us a call. I'll make your favorite for dinner. Both of yours." She stood up, taking her bag, keys, and putting on her shoes. He followed her to the door. She hugged him, holding on for a bit too long, but when she finally pulled away, she walked out the door, without a second glance. There was probably something there that she didn't want him to see quite yet.

He closed the door behind her, taking off his own shoes, before he started collecting some of the empty bottles and boxes of expired food. He wanted this to feel like home again. He wanted Scott to look at it and not see the mess that was inside him, overflowing, and drowning everything around them.

Once he was somewhat pleased with how everything looked, he went up the stairs, knocking on Scott's door, but there was no response. So, he opened the door and walked in, and Scott was standing by the bed, in only his boxers, staring down at something that Stiles couldn't see, didn't really understand. Stiles called for him, but it was almost like, Scott wasn't really there. Like he'd become so disconnected from his surroundings, so distanced from anything that could alert his senses, awake him to something he wasn't ready to acknowledge.

Stiles put a hand to Scott's shoulder, and he looked to the side, expecting it to be his mother, or Allison –again-, or hell, maybe even Derek. But he followed the hand that connected to a body that was still not all there, and Scott recoiled away, eyes wide, chest heaving, like Stiles' presence was too large for the room, it was crushing Scott into the walls he'd built around himself, suffocating the hell out of him.

" Hey. Hey, man, it's just me. It's okay, calm down." Stiles put his hands in the air, but didn't really step back. Scott looked like he still wanted to escape, but the walls were behind him and around him and Stiles was in front of him and there was no way out.

" W- what are you doing here? Where's mum?"

Stiles remembered Scott searching for his mother, on Stiles' eleventh birthday, when the kids were too mean, and the presents were too cool compared to his and he felt left out and alone. Stiles had taken him into his dad's closet, along with the puzzle he'd bought him, and they spent the next few hours doing that, until they got hungry, and their parents started searching for them and everyone else had gone home.

" You haven't been answering my phone calls. Haven't seen you in a while either. So, I just wanted to check up on you."

" I- I'm fine." But he still wasn't looking at Stiles, was refusing to even see him, and he held his shirt in his hand and Stiles could see the remains of the wounds the alpha pack had inflicted upon him last and-

" You're still not healing?" Stiles went to touch where it looked like it hurt, but Scott hissed, back plastered to the wall like he wanted it to devour him, to eat him whole. His eyes had fallen shut, and Stiles wondered why Scott ever thought Stiles would hurt him. He would never.

" Don't. Please, don't."

" Don't, what? What am I doing, Scott?" Scott shook his head, eyes squeezing as if that would somehow make them more shut, make him see even less.

" Dude," But Scott pushed against him, pushed away, standing by the door now to have some sort of exit, release. To be able to run, when it got too much.

" I said I'm fine. You should go." Scott was slightly shaky, although he hid it behind his cold tone and how nonchalant he forced his features to be.

" Oh like hell I'm going. I'm not going anywhere, until you've properly talked to me."

" I am talking. Don't know what you want me to say." He shrugged, finally managing to pass the shirt over his head, eyes still nowhere near where Stiles stood.

" I want you to say what you're actually thinking. I want you to be honest with me. You owe me at least that, don't you think?" Stiles was getting angry. Actually, he already was angry, but now, it was the sole emotion leading him through this, pulling him through all the cracks in their friendship, all the pieces of them as people.

" I don't think I owe you anything." Scott's eyebrows furrowed, and released. Emotion passing through him for only a second, before he blocked it away too.

" Excuse me? We've been friends all of our lives, Scott. We grew up together. We went through hell and back for each other. What do you mean you don't owe me anything? What the hell are you talking about?" Stiles was an angry crier, and the more frustrated he got, the more tears he had to blink away, because he would **_not_** start crying in front whoever the hell this Scott in front of him was.  

" We were. But now, we're not."

" We’re not, **_what_**?"

" Friends. I don't want to be friends anymore." Stiles staggered a bit, as if Scott's word had been a physical blow to his core. He sniffled, shaking away the thought before it started to flower in his mind.

" You don't mean that." He breathed out, chocking on a laugh, or a cry, or something.

" We haven't been friends for a while now. Don't know why you're so surprised that I've verbalized it. Even if we were, then I don't want it. Don't want you."

" Scott, stop. Why are you doing this?" Stiles' voice trembled, something ugly grasping at it, twisting around it, molding into its every word. Scott seemed to struggle then, and for a moment, Stiles had hope, but Scott shrugged again, putting on shorts now.

" I'm just telling you the truth. Isn't that what you've always wanted? What you've requested from everyone around you, but never had the balls to give back? Well, this is it. Plain and simple." Stiles wondered if Scott was under some kind of spell again. If someone was controlling him, spelling his words out for him. It had to be that. Scott would never say those things to Stiles. He would never be so cruel.

" H- how have I not given it back? Scott," Stiles took a step forward, but then Scott spoke again.

" You always lie in the name of protecting everyone around you. You're a bit of a hypocrite. You want your dad to tell you the truth about your mum's illness, but don't want to tell me that, when I ask what's wrong, over and over again. You want me to tell my mum the truth about the werewolf thing, but you'd let your dad walk around town, losing his job, without telling him anything. You want to tell him Derek killed his sister but not tell him how you know. Lies on top of lies on top of lies."

When had Scott become so bitter? Where had he found the place in his heart to store all that hatred towards Stiles? How had he let it get this bad?

" I- I couldn't tell him, he- he worries, you know that. You were with me on the same page. Wh- what happened? Why are you telling me this now?"

" You asked. I answered. And this is just it, isn't it? Scott always is on the same page as Stiles. Agrees to everything. Would follow him to the end of the world. To the forest to find a dead body. To the **_stupid_** lacrosse tournament. Anywhere." He sounded like he was choking, when he finally looked Stiles' way.

" But then shit happens, and who has to live with it? Me. But no more. No more, Stiles." A tear fell from Scott's eyes that Stiles barely managed to see, before he was turned away from him again, putting on socks now, or something. Stiles could barely see through the tears.

" Wow. Okay. Yeah. You're right. I dragged you out to the forest that day, but don't pretend you weren't as desperate as I was for some action. For something finally happening in our lives. And ever since you've been turned, you've used your werewolf powers to your best abilities. And- and the tournament? Really? I saved your fucking life, you asshole." Stiles went to push at his friend, to hit him, because how fucking could he say those things? How could he look like he meant them? But Scott turned, swerving away from Stiles' approaching hand, before he gave a shove of his own.

" It wasn't yours to fucking save! Who- who gave you the fucking right, to bring me back and then- and then almost die? Huh? Who **_the fuck_** asked you to interfere?"

" You're mad at me for saving you? For stopping you from killing yourself? Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

" Damn right, I'm mad. I'm mad because now this is all I smell, all the fucking time. Right now, if I look down at my hands, I'll see your fucking blood. I'll see gasoline. I'll almost taste it in my mouth. Yeah, I look at you now, and you're burning. You won't stop fucking burning, and **_I'm_** the one seeing it, not you. It's not my fucking fault you have a heroism complex and you feel the need to save everyone just because you're so scared of being alone? Because you want to go to your fucking mum? Well, boo-fucking-hoo, Stiles. Boo-fucking-hoo."

Scott's eyes turned something red with rage, something black with the darkness tugging at his heart, something white and unseeing. His claws came out but he kept them away from Stiles. Stiles who audibly gasped, tears now falling, heart shattering, chest feeling like it cracked right open, willing Scott to take what he wanted. Take it all.

" You," Stiles couldn't breathe. He was back there on the street, wanting to finally get to Scott's house, unable to go back home. He was at school, and they were pointing at how he looked like a fish out of water, his color almost turning that blue too. He was at Derek's house, telling him to get to Scott, to save him, on his first full-moon. He was having all the panic attacks he's ever had, packed into one.

He dropped to one knee, hand shakily clinging to Scott's bed sheets, because he had to hold onto something, had to not fade away before finishing this with Scott, or letting it finish him.

" I- I won't apologize f- for saving your life. I- I'd do it again. Every single time. Yeah. M- maybe I am scared. Loss terrifies me. P- put you in the equation and- and I can't do it. I loved my mum," He allowed the sob to pierce through his lungs. Just this once.

" I loved her, but I- I would still ch- choose you and d- dad and Melis-sa, because I d- don't want you to go th- through what I did. I don't want to leave you, Scott, b- but, I sure as hell can't let you l- leave me either." He coughed out so roughly, he feared blood would come out. He collapsed onto his back now, which hurt like a bitch, because _stupid, Stiles, stupid, don't fall so hard on your still healing back, don't move so fast_.

He couldn't see much, but he felt Scott dropping on top of him, felt Scott's tears, falling onto his face, and he wanted to make him feel better, wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he forgave him, but he really couldn't find his voice and things were turning black and-

" **_Stiles_** ," Scott whimpered, pleaded, begged, laying his head onto Stiles' chest although he could already hear it, taking both of Stiles' hands and putting them onto his own heart.

" Please, I can't do this again. Please, please, please. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I can't keep watching you fade away. God. **_Please_** , Stiles. Please. Just breathe. Breathe. Please, God, just breathe." Scott took out his inhaler from his pocket, because he had to walk around with it again, not for the asthma, but for whatever else was taking his breath away, refusing to give it back. His hands were shaking, he missed Stiles' mouth several times, before finally finding it, puffing the medicine out, once, twice.

" Come on, Stiles. Don't do this to me, man. Come on. Breathe for me. Breathe." Stiles' eyes fell closed, and Scott thought he'd stop breathing. But the convulsions his body was making in a desperate attempt to get air started to slowly die down into occasional tremors, and his legs that were so tensed, eased, as his heart rate began to slow.

" Stiles?" The inhaler fell away from Scott's hands, disregarded somewhere, as his hands started touching Stiles, everywhere they could reach. Stiles blinked the tiredness away, focusing on Scott's blurry figure, as it slowly cleared.

" You're not going to kiss me, are you? This is far too suggestive, Scott." Stiles' voice sounded raw, like his throat was still blocked, like his lungs were still on shut down, but at least, it was there. Scott sighed, falling away from Stiles' body, and onto the floor beside him, arms coming up to shield his eyes because he felt like he could cry again.

" Yeah, it's okay, buddy. We're okay." Stiles moved his hand around –although he couldn't quite feel it yet- until it hit against something that Stiles assumed was Scott's leg, so he patted that, squeezing it reassuringly.

" You scared the living hell out of me, Stiles."

" Yeah, well. You did it to me first." There was barely any judgment in Stiles' tone, barely any grudge there. Scott wondered what he'd ever done to deserve someone like him in his life.

" I can't believe you told me you didn't want to be friends with me anymore. What the fuck, dude, you'd like, die without me." Scott groaned, ashamed, as he turned onto his side, face now buried into Stiles' shoulder. He needed the proximity. Needed him to keep him there. To stay.

" They've been a fucked up few weeks, Stiles. Like, really, really, fucked up." Scott spoke into Stiles' shirt, but he got it. He understood. Stiles would admit, they'd been some of the worst weeks of his life.

" Yeah, can't argue on that one. I was waiting for you, you know. To come and see me. I really needed you to be there, Scott." Scott held on tighter. So tight, he feared he'd break something.

" I wasn't.. right, like, in the head. I just.. I felt like I let you down, and for that, I didn't deserve to be your friend anymore. You deserve better than this, Stiles. Better than me."

" Scott," Stiles sighed, pulling Scott's head away from where it was hidden, watching as the tears prickled in his eyes, before falling away, wiping more and more of his normally joyous expression.

" You're the best, best friend anyone could ever have. I don't want anyone else." Scott shook his head, breathing through whatever was trying to make its way through him.

" I saw you there and- I froze, Stiles. I didn't do anything. Didn't help. Didn't even try to. If- if Allison and Lydia weren't there, yo- you would have **_died_** , Stiles. Because of me? Do you- do you have any idea what that feels like? How am I supposed to live with that? Live with myself?"

" Dude, you were in shock. You were probably still coming to your senses after that spell or whatever. You almost killed yourself, Scott. Almost, ended it. I would have frozen up too. Hell, I probably wouldn't have been able to move ever again."

" No, but, you didn't. You talked to me and you took it from my hand and you acted, Stiles. You stopped me that night, and if you hadn't, then-"

" Then you would have been gone. And I probably would have been too. I was already in that gasoline, Scott. I was right there with you. Whatever happened, man. You're my best friend. You're my brother. I- I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I love you, Scott, and I would never let anything happen to you without trying with everything I have in me, to stop it. Okay? I don't care how selfish or cowardly that-"

" No, no, stop," Scott whined, because Stiles was clinging to the words he'd said when they'd meant nothing. He only said them because for some fucked up reason, he wanted him to hurt. Like Scott did. For weeks now. Unbearable, agonizing, pain, like nothing he'd ever felt before. And he said what he knew would push Stiles away, push him over the edge.

" You're none of those things. I didn't mean it. Any of it. I'm so fucking sorry, Stiles. So sorry." He buried himself into his friend again, and Stiles put a hand over Scott's head, and another one somewhere around his stomach, trying to somehow hold him together, keep as many pieces of him close by. Stiles laughed, because he needed Scott and loved him so much, it didn't even make sense.

" It's okay. I'm just- so fucking glad to have you back, Scott." Scott didn't reply, just held on tighter, clung to Stiles with something resembling desperation, but also, lots and lots of love.

They stayed like that for maybe an hour, until all the trembling in both their bodies had stopped, and they could each breathe, without choking on something or the other. Stiles said something about their parents waiting with good food, and Scott's stomach groaned in protest, because it had been too long since he'd allowed himself to feel anything that wasn't grief, coated with a layer of bitterness and rage.

So, Scott stood first, carefully helping Stiles to his feet, who was only now starting to suffer the repercussions of how far he'd physically pushed himself. They leaned against one another, deciding to walk there, to have more time with one another, but also, because air. Air could help. They needed air.

Scott talked about how much he actually hated the taste of alcohol, how werewolf metabolism sucked because he could never get intoxicated, yet, he sometimes suffered from one hell of a hangover. He talked about what Derek and Allison and Lydia and Isaac and everyone had said to try to make him feel better, how far he'd pushed every single one of them away. He talked about his crazy alpha pack fights that always ended terribly for him but at least made him feel badass. In a -hurting all over, gonna die- type of way.

Stiles listened and listened because he enjoyed the sound of his best friend's voice. Missed it terribly. Also, because the more he spoke, the more bits of himself that he got back. The more he actually **_looked_** like Scott, despite the weight loss, and the healing scars, and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He at least spoke like Scott and that was enough for now. It was a start.

Scott went to knock on the door, to get it opened, when Stiles spoke, all humorous and joyous and free.

" Oh, by the way, I think I like Derek." Scott knocked, eyebrows furrowed, missing the point of this.

" Yeah, he's not that bad of a guy. I kinda like him too."

" Not like that, Scott." Stiles laughed and Scott's eyebrows furrowed further before his eyes widened, mouth falling open.

" What?" Scott gasped out.

" Come on, Scott, they're waiting for us."

Stiles opened the door, still laughing, almost skipping through the house, until he got to the kitchen. Scott shook his head to himself, chuckling, his heart filling up with something so warm and comfortable and nice. Something good. And if Scott spent the day, staring at the people he called his family, because he was just so fucking grateful, then that was his business. And if Melissa leaned too close, touched more, held on tighter, looked at Stiles like he'd given her the moon, then that was hers. And Scott wouldn't say anything. Because it felt like he was given something too. A lot of things actually. And this time, he'd do his best to keep them around. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Cold by Novo Amor.  
> This wraps up the series, so I hope you enjoyed it :)  
> Please let me know what you think, it means a lot!


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